


Bitches 'R' Us

by megyal



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-18
Updated: 2006-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone got this out of an AIM convo with me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitches 'R' Us

"The thing about you is," Pete snapped, carefully making sure not to go into Spencer's bubble of existence, his personal space, because that personal space was rife with snarky pitfalls much like the ones found in Indiana Jones movies, decapitating, emasculating. "The thing about you is that you're the biggest bitch ever."

"Really." Spencer was calm. Always so fucking calm and yet with the mocking eyes, the sly eyes, the look that Pete always hated because guess what...its a look he's seen in the mirror. One bitch to another, takes one to know one, and this was making Pete madder than ever, to see him sit there in THAT COUCH, that fucking awful leather one that Pete hated so much.

 _Jaybee (9:43:08 PM): (i like where this is going)_   


_Marie (9:43:20 PM): [you like the couch?]_   


_Jaybee (9:45:16 PM): (it my quagmire joke)_   


_Marie (9:45:37 PM): [digety-digety-digety]_   


"Yeah. You ALWAYS get your way. You always get what you want and that’s not the way it goes." Pete sat down next to him, about three feet away, but Spencer moved in, fast and sharp and Pete could feel the full heavy warm weight of him and pushed him away, pretty mad at himself for getting aroused that fucking easily, and Spencer laughed...LAUGHED, even while he was getting shoved, and Pete slapped him in annoyance on his arm. And..it was a particularly hard swat.

Instantly the long slow grin was wiped off Spencer's face, and his eyes glittered, and fuck, he swatted Pete on the arm and hissed at him, "Don't be such a fucking baby, Wentz," and would you look at that, it was pretty much on, now. It was like girls fighting, even with the hair-pulling, and Pete made sure to try knee that sucker in the balls.

"Fuck," groaned Spencer, and grabbed at the neck of Pete's t-shirt, slapping him upside the head. "Just for that? JUST FOR THAT! You....you bottom."

Pete elbowed him in the ribs and got a good handful of hair to yank. Spencer yelled and they both slid off that fucking ugly sofa, and Pete got his knee snapped on that little low table that Patrick had bought for him over at I-frigging-Kea. Right, so was Spencer trying to CHOKE him? Not cool. Not cool at all, and Pete dug his finger in his sides, making sure to claw them in. He could hear Spencer above in grunting in pain.

"Yeah. You're a bitch with fucking control issues," Pete hissed as Spencer hauled at his pants, and Pete kicked at him, missing almost completely. He tried to get up, but Spencer placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back down, hands tangling and nails scraping skin. Pete was sure that if they killed each other, at least the skin under their nails would be good for the investigators, shit.

Pete bucked up against him and felt the material of Spencer's shirt flap against his face, messing up his hair, and Spencer was all over him, slapping and pinching, and Pete was busy trying to conjure up more hands to do some damage to the bitch.

There was NO WAY he was bottoming.

Apparently, Spencer didn’t get the memo on that little piece of info, because he felt one of Spencer's hands grab one of HIS, and then pull across his chest, and the next thing he knew he was being turned up and over, onto his stomach and wait wait wait....ok. How the HELL did Spence get so strong? Were drummers supposed to be this fucking strong? He tried to get to his hands and knees scramble away, because THIS WAS NOT THE WAY IT GOES but this was thwarted by Spencer's hands on his hips, and he grabbed at them. One pulled away and grabbed at his cock, and fine. So he was hard, so what? That didn’t mean he was going to bottom.

"You so fucking are, and you're gonna like it," Spence said from above him. "The great Wentz." he continued to mock, "Is gonna get it, and get it hard."

"Fuck off," Pete grunted, albeit weakly, because he was busy still trying to tug away from Spencer’s grip.

 _Marie (10:06:41 PM): [hey, you want rimming?]_   


_Jaybee (10:07:41 PM): [OH GOD YES PLEASE]_   


 And in the midst of his struggles he felt Spencer move down from hovering over his back and he could feel biting on his butt. Biting. 

"Wait one fucking minute, bitch," Pete gave out, right before Spence let his tongue start to do the walking, and Pete jumped to feel his hands pry apart his ass-cheeks, and before he could jerk away, he felt its cool wetness against the puckered flesh of his entrance and oooohh shhhhhiiiitttt.

Hey. He was starting to enjoy this and Spence KNEW it. That was pretty much equal to Spence WINNING this particular sort of argument and Pete hated it with every bone in his body. So he pulled away from that invading tongue, no matter how hot it felt, because Wentz always wins. It’s written on some stone somewhere, and he could hear Spencer laughing darkly as he was grabbed again.

"You can fucking classify this as rape, asshole," Pete panted as he felt Spencer's fingers start to explore him. And he reached back his hands only to have them slapped away.

"No way. Didn’t you hear? You can't rape the willing."

"I'm NOT-" Pete started to negate with every fiber of his being, until Spencer arched his fingers in just the right way and brushed against that delightful spot, and every fiber that Pete had decided to set itself on fire with pleasure instead of taking his side against Spence. Those assholes.

 "Oh. Oh, fuck," Pete moaned, trying to work up the strength to continue fighting Spence, because there was such a thing as the upper hand and he was _thisclose_ to losing it. As Spencer started to push into him, burning, stretching, he became more and more positive that he had lost this so-called Upper Hand and deep down he really didn't mind, but was he going to let Spence know that? Hell no.

He grabbed onto himself, slicking up and down slowly as Spence became fully seated in him, balls to balls, (balls to the wall! Pete thought wildly, and Spence pinched him, bringing him back from his bitter musing).

And Spence started to thrust, one hand flat against that space in Pete's back, right in between his shoulder blades, pressing down, down, until Pete had to unlock the elbow of that one hand that had been keeping him up, and end up with his face on the carpet and his ass still up in the air, Spencer thrusting away in it faster and faster, his prostate now getting pushed against more in this position, and God, was it good, but he wasn't making a sound.  Because if Spence was going to win, he was going to have a _sour_ win.

"Wait, so you're gonna be a baby about this too?" Spencer panted, sounded strangled as his thick length slid in and out of Pete. "Come the fuck on. You know you like it like this. All angry like this."

"Just shut up," Pete finally moaned out; fuck, FINE, Spence WON, because that was a sound of sheer pleasure. He could practically FEEL Spencer's triumphant smirk, and he squeezed at himself maybe a little too hard because he was coming in the most dramatic way he had EVER come, and Spence was barreling up right inside him.

He could feel Spencer start to melt inside of him and then pull out, and then Pete winced at the sliding, burning sensation, and he was sure that he would be walking funny for the WEEK.

"Wasn't that nice? Just a little gift from the biggest bitch ever," Spence said in triumph and Pete turned over and attacked again. Because. 1) Spence won this battle. 2) The war was just beginning.

 _Jaybee (10:39:45 PM): YAY SUPER BITCHY SPENCER AND NEEDY LITTLE SLUT PETE!_   



End file.
